


sweater paws

by lesmiserablol



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dorks in Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Hoodies, M/M, Mutual Pining, in which courf steals combeferres hoodies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24133618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesmiserablol/pseuds/lesmiserablol
Summary: “How do I look?” Courfeyrac smirks, holding his hands out and spinning in place. This morning, he’s wearing Combeferre’s favorite hoodie, a black one with the NASA logo printed on it. The sleeves are covering his hands, and it looks positively adorable.Combeferre looks away, letting out a laugh. “Wonderful, as always.”(In which Courfeyrac enjoys wearing Combeferre's clothes, and Combeferre thinks it is adorable)
Relationships: Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 86





	sweater paws

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnonymousJCourferre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousJCourferre/gifts).



> I wrote this for AnonymousJCourferre, aka [jabbers-of-jay](http://www.jabbers-of-jay.tumblr.com) on tumblr, as a birthday gift! Happy birthday my friend!

Combeferre’s neck is screaming painfully at him as he slowly wakes up. He hates falling asleep on the couch. Or at least, he hates waking up after falling asleep on the couch, his neck longing for the support of his pillow. He feels a warm presence next to him and wonders if Enjolras’s cat has once again claimed his torso as a suitable bed. 

He considers embracing the discomfort and just falling back asleep to get more rest when the warm presence moves. His brain goes from 10% awake to at least 70% as he realizes that Sphinx is not that large of a cat, and he blinks his eyes open to be met with a blurry mess of curls. His mind helpfully reminds him of how he, Enjolras, Courfeyrac, and Grantaire had stayed up late last night watching reruns of America’s Funniest Home Videos. He and Courfeyrac had been cuddling the whole night, and they must have fallen asleep like this. Courfeyrac is in Combeferre’s arms, and Combeferre’s left arm is asleep under his friend’s torso. 

Courfeyrac adjusts again and Combeferre has accidentally fallen asleep next to him enough times to know that he won’t get up or speak until he knows that Combeferre is awake. 

“Good morning,” Combeferre yawns, his voice rough from sleep. 

“Morning.” Courfeyrac slowly detangles himself from his best friend and sits up, stretching his hands above his head. Combeferre glances at the sliver of bare skin exposed at the hip as his shirt lifts up. 

“What time did we fall asleep?” Combeferre asks, rubbing his eyes. 

“Well, you fell asleep around midnight, and I didn’t want to wake you up, so I just stayed here. Your glasses are on the table,” Courfeyrac responds, giving Combeferre a smile over his shoulder. Combeferre grabs his glasses to enjoy the smile in its full glory before Courfeyrac turns back around. “I’ll make pancakes if you make coffee?”

“Deal,” Combeferre chuckles, stretching as well. He fell asleep in his Star Wars pajama pants and an old t-shirt, and running his hand through his hair confirms that he has a bad case of bed head. He catches Courfeyrac staring at him and hopes he doesn’t look like too much of a disaster. 

“It’s freezing in here, I’ll be right back,” Courfeyrac tells him, disappearing out of the room. 

Combeferre makes his way to the kitchen, grabbing his favorite mug and the one that Courfeyrac uses every time he’s over, and he nearly drops them when Courfeyrac walks in. 

“How do I look?” Courfeyrac smirks, holding his hands out and spinning in place. Combeferre has a couple of hoodies that he usually doesn’t wear outside of the apartment, and lately, Courfeyrac has been becoming very familiar with this stash. This morning, he’s wearing Combeferre’s favorite, a black one with the NASA logo printed on it. The sleeves are covering his hands, and it looks positively adorable. 

Combeferre looks away, letting out a laugh. “Wonderful, as always.” He hadn’t meant for the last part to slip out, and he covers it by clearing his throat and starting on the coffee. 

He glances at Courfeyrac and sees that he’s blushing as he pulls out the box of instant pancake mix. The apartment starts to fill with the aroma of breakfast and the sound of Courfeyrac’s voice as he sings along to a song playing from his phone. 

“How many pancakes do you want?” he asks, and Combeferre glances over at him. His curls are a little more messy than usual, but Combeferre thinks they look perfect. The sleeves of the hoodie are pushed up to his elbows and he’s swaying slightly to the music, using the spatula in his hand as a conductor’s baton. He’s grinning easily, and Combeferre realizes that he needs to answer the question, but he’s struggling to find his voice as he continues to stare at Courfeyrac. 

“I’ll take five, to start,” Grantaire says, entering the kitchen with a yawn, wearing one of his boyfriend's red shirts. “And a cup of coffee. Two, if you want to see any signs of Enjolras before noon.” 

Courfeyrac finishes stacking a large pile of pancakes on a plate, and they all sit down at the table. Grantaire managed to coax Enjolras out of bed, and he’s cradling his mug of coffee against his chest between sips. 

Combeferre shakes his head with a smile as Courfeyrac and Grantaire decide to start a pancake eating contest. They all know that Grantaire is going to win, but that never stops Courfeyrac from trying.

“I love it when he wears my clothes,” Enjolras mutters to his roommate, his eyes on Grantaire. “I’ve noticed Courfeyrac has been raiding your closet lately.” He raises an eyebrow at Combeferre, who blushes. 

Yeah. He loves it when Courfeyrac wears his clothes. 

* * *

Combeferre is in the kitchen when Enjolras returns to their apartment, having walked Grantaire home. Courfeyrac left soon after they were gone, still wearing Combeferre’s hoodie with a promise of returning that evening for the group movie night. 

“What are you doing?” Enjolras asks slowly, hanging up his keys and following the sound of the mixer. 

Combeferre doesn’t look away from the vanilla he is measuring, adding it to the bowl. “Stress baking.”

“You stress bake?” Enjolras laughs, grabbing a spoon. 

“I was helping Bahorel and Feuilly out the other day, and I realized how nice it is to focus on baking when I have a lot on my mind,” Combeferre shrugs. He stops the mixer and takes the bowl out.

Enjolras uses his spoon to try some of the cupcake batter and Combeferre swats his arm. “A lot on your mind at the moment?” 

“Make yourself useful.” Combeferre points from the bowl to the pan that is prepared with cupcake liners before he starts collecting the dishes he has scattered across the counters. “And you could say that. I’m...I want to do it. I want to ask Courfeyrac out. Like, tonight.” 

“Seriously?” Enjolras asks. He’s carefully adding batter to the pan, and Combeferre’s words distract him so that he adds too much in one of the cupcake holders. 

“Yeah, seriously,” Combeferre admits, watching Enjolras make more of a mess as he tries to repair his mistake. “I don’t know, I get that idea a lot, but something about this morning made it a little more serious. Seeing him in my hoodie, making breakfast in our kitchen, looking perfect even though he just woke up. I want to have mornings like that more often.”

“That’s great,” Enjolras nods. “Do you want to practice?” 

“Practice?” Combeferre laughs. “What, you want to pretend to be Courfeyrac and I’ll ask you out?”

“If you want. It may be difficult considering that you’ve harbored a secret crush on me all these years, but I’m here to help,” Enjolras winks, and Combeferre rolls his eyes. 

“Definitely. I think I can find it in me to forget that for a moment,” he chuckles, turning on the faucet to fill the sink with water to start on the dishes. 

“Alright,” Enjolras puts the bowl of batter down and turns to face his roommate. 

“Right now?” Combeferre asks nervously. 

Enjolras reaches over and turns the faucet off. “Go for it. Let me get into character. Hey Combeferre, my name is Courfeyrac. I love sunflowers and I clap my hands together when I get excited and I sometimes mispronounce big words on purpose to make you laugh.”

Combeferre smiles and readjusts his glasses, one of his nervous habits. “Right. Hi, Courfeyrac. You look great today. I mean, you look great every day, of course. Objectively. Well, not just objectively. I think you’re very handsome, all the time. Even that time when you got your wisdom teeth removed and your face was swollen for a week.”

Enjolras blinks at him and tilts his head. Combeferre clears his throat. 

“Right, sorry, I’m getting off track here. What I wanted to say, after establishing that I find you attractive, is that looks aren’t the only thing I appreciate about you. Although they are a contributing factor. But that’s not the reason I fell in love with you.”

“You’re in love with me?”

“Shit, did I say that too soon? I think I shouldn’t say that quite yet, pretend that didn’t happen-“

“But it happened. What are you trying to say, Combeferre? Do you love me?”

“Enjolras-“ Combeferre sighs. He wants to start over, but Enjolras isn't having it. 

“Do you love Enjolras? I’m getting a lot of mixed signals here, man.”

“No! Well, yes, of course I love Enjolras, but I’m in love with you, Courfeyrac. No, wait, I didn’t want to say that yet. First, I wanted to explain that I think you’re fantastic. I love everything about you. You’re kind, you’re funny, you’re thoughtful, you’re genuine, and you understand me so well. So yes, I’m in love with you.”

There’s a pause. “Is that all you wanted to say?”

“Yes. No, wait, I also wanted to ask you out,” Combeferre answers quickly. “Do you want to go on a date sometime? We can get some dinner, or watch something at my apartment, or go rollerblading, or whatever you want. Like we usually do. But maybe this time we can hold hands. And kiss,” he finishes lamely. 

Enjolras stares at him for a few moments before turning back to the pan of cupcakes and placing them in the oven. “Okay, how did that feel?”

Combeferre looks at the dishes in the sink with a sigh and turns to sit on top of the dining table instead, grabbing the spoon to lick off the remaining batter. “That was a disaster.”

“That’s what practice is for. It could’ve been worse, but now you have a better idea of what you need to say. And when,” Enjolras says. “You’ll be fine. And he’d be stupid to say no to you.”

“Thanks,” Combeferre sighs. “I’ll keep brainstorming, thank you for your help.”

“Anytime. Let’s get working on that frosting,” Enjolras answers, looking at the open recipe book that was borrowed from Bahorel. “Didn’t you say baking is supposed to keep your mind off of things?”

Combeferre nods. “Yeah, why?”

Enjolras smirks. “You know red velvet cupcakes are Courfeyrac’s favorite.”

Combeferre stares at the dark red batter on the spoon in surprise. He hadn’t done it on purpose, but he guesses his brain has a habit of not letting him keep his mind off of Courfeyrac for long.

* * *

Combeferre tries to act natural when he notices Courfeyrac enter their apartment for movie night that evening, but he can’t help but look up eagerly at the sound of his friend’s voice. 

“Combeferre!” Courfeyrac beams, his smile causing Combeferre’s stomach to fill with butterflies. He hasn’t taken off the NASA hoodie. “Where are those cupcakes you promised me?” 

Combeferre smirks. “They’re in the kitchen, but you have to share.”

Courfeyrac pulls a sad face. “Do I really have to?” 

“That’s not fair, you know I’m weak when it comes to those puppy dog eyes,” Combeferre says, and Courfeyrac’s pout changes quickly to a satisfied smile. “Oh no, it’s gone. Yes, you have to share.”

Courfeyrac laughs and emerges seconds later with two cupcakes in his hands, taking his usual seat next to Combeferre. 

“Two cupcakes isn’t too bad, I’m impressed by your self restraint,” Combeferre notes. 

Courfeyrac places one into Combeferre’s hands. “I got one for you too, silly. Did you get a chance to try them yet?”

Combeferre is smiling from his friend’s sweet gesture. “No, actually.” To be honest, his stomach had been full of lead all day, and eating a cupcake didn’t sound appealing until the moment it was handed to him by Courfeyrac. 

The moan that Courfeyrac lets out as he bites into the cupcake should be illegal. “These are amazing, Combeferre. You should bake for me more often.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that,” Combeferre says quickly. Before he can panic any more, he takes a bite of his cupcake. It does taste delicious, if he says so himself. He catches Enjolras’s eye from across the room, and Enjolras gives him a thumbs up and an encouraging smile, reminding Combeferre that he has a goal for this evening. 

“Courfeyrac,” Combeferre begins, suddenly very aware of how there are half a dozen of their friends in the apartment already. “Um, can I talk to you in the kitchen?”

“Sure,” Courfeyrac nods. “Can you hold my cupcake for a second? I just got some frosting on my hoodie. Well, your hoodie. Our hoodie,” he laughs. 

Combeferre takes the cupcake from him and watches him disappear down the hallway. Combeferre expects him to just wipe the frosting off, but he comes back with another one of Combeferre’s hoodies. 

Bahorel whistles, looking up from where Jehan is teaching him how to french braid Cosette’s hair. “Courf, I understand why you’ve developed a new love for Combeferre’s clothes, you look adorable.”

It’s a golden color, sporting the Mathletes logo that his team had designed during his last year of high school. It has faded a bit over the years, but Courfeyrac says it’s his favorite hoodie because it’s soft, smells like Combeferre, and reminds Courfeyrac of “cute, nerdy, high school Combeferre” (his words). 

Combeferre is suddenly finding it very hard to think and speak clearly now. Bahorel is right, he looks so cute in his hoodies. It’s Jehan who speaks up. 

“You look so natural in Ferre’s clothes, you two would make a great couple,” they say with a knowing smile, turning back to Cosette’s hair. Combeferre catches the wink that they throw his way. 

Combeferre realizes too late that he has loosened his grip on his cupcake. It falls to the floor, frosting first, and he is pulled out of his thoughts.

“Oh, whoops,” he mutters, setting Courfeyrac’s half eaten cupcake on the coffee table and jumping up to grab paper towels to clean the frosting off the carpet. Courfeyrac has already rushed into action, and when Combeferre walks in the kitchen, Courfeyrac hands him some paper towels. 

He cleans the small mess, not mourning the loss of his cupcake too badly. His nerves are really frayed now. It’s not like the two of them haven’t been teased by their friends before, plenty of them make passing jokes about Combeferre and Courfeyrac dating. But it doesn’t help him keep his thoughts straight. He wants to ask Courfeyrac out tonight, and the longer he waits, the more inclined he is to chicken out. 

He returns to the kitchen to throw away the paper towels, and Courfeyrac is leaning against the counter, waiting for him. 

“You wanted to talk?” he reminds Combeferre. 

“Right,” Combeferre nods. “Nice hoodie,” he smiles. 

“I threw the other one in your laundry basket, and I couldn’t pass up the chance to replace it with this one. Sorry if that thing Jehan said was too weird.”

Combeferre shakes his head. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I can ask them all to stop teasing us.”

Courfeyrac breaks eye contact, instead staring at some of the fridge magnets on his right. “It’s okay. I mean, it’s kind of a bummer sometimes.”

“What do you mean?” Combeferre frowns. He had no idea that it actually bothered Courfeyrac. 

“Well, our friends have a point, you know?” Courfeyrac says slowly, now bringing himself to look up at Combeferre. 

“That...we should be dating?” Combeferre asks. He’s worried he’s understanding this completely wrong, but the way Courfeyrac is talking about it...

Courfeyrac is staring at him, then his eyes suddenly become guarded, and he pushes himself off of the counter. “Never mind. You can pretend I never said anything.”

Combeferre grabs him by the arm before he can leave the kitchen, and Courfeyrac freezes. “Courf, wait. Do you, are you saying you want to date me?”

Courfeyrac bites his lip for a second, debating on his response. “Is that what you want?”

“Honestly?” Combeferre licks his lips. “I want you, Courfeyrac. I want you to wear my hoodie even if it’s a little big on you and you’ve worn it more times in the past year than I have. I want to wake up to more mornings after we fell asleep in each other’s arms and then make breakfast together. I want you to wear my scarf like you do every winter so I can grab it and pull you close to kiss you. I want my bed sheets to smell of you, even when you’re gone. I’m in love with you.”

Courfeyrac’s eyes are very wide, his mouth open slightly. 

“So yes, I do want to date you,” Combeferre adds quickly, his heart pounding. “Is that what you want?”

Courfeyrac nods slightly, still looking shocked. “I want to kiss you right now, is that okay?”

Combeferre nods eagerly, and as he leans down, Courfeyrac puts a hand behind his neck and pulls him close, their lips crashing together. 

Courfeyrac’s lips are as smooth as Combeferre always imagined them to be. They’re smooth and a little dry and he’s smiling slightly and so is Combeferre but they don’t pull back. Combeferre’s hands find their way to his hips and he pulls him closer, every inch of contact between them feeling warm, and he deepens the kiss. 

The kiss lasts either a second or a hundred years, and eventually they pull back for air. Courfeyrac is beaming, looking positively radiant, and Combeferre rests their foreheads together, unable to hold back his own smile and his relieved, breathless laughter. 

“You have no idea how long I have wanted to do that,” Combeferre says under his breath. 

“I can imagine, I’ve only been waiting for this moment for ages,” Courfeyrac responds, his breath ghosting Combeferre’s lips, and Combeferre closes the distance once more. 

This kiss is even shorter, and Courfeyrac’s hand finds Combeferre’s as he takes a step back. “Our friends are probably waiting for us,” he says, lacing their fingers together. 

Combeferre sighs. He loves movie nights with his friends, but at the moment, the only thing he wants to do is kiss Courfeyrac senseless in his kitchen. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

He smiles as Courfeyrac doesn’t let go of his hand, but leads the way into the living room. 

By now, everyone is crammed inside the apartment, and Combeferre is surprised no one interrupted them in the kitchen. He suspects that it has something to do with how Enjolras is leaning against the wall next to the entrance, as if standing guard. He’s smiling, and he gives Combeferre a wink as the rest of the room starts to notice the lovebirds. Courfeyrac is beaming and Combeferre grins sheepishly as their friends cheer. 

“I managed to keep everyone out, but not before Grantaire saw you two and shared the news,” Enjolras explains.

Combeferre shrugs and mouths a “thank you” as Courfeyrac leads them to their spot on the couch, the room buzzing with excited chatter. 

“You were right, Jehan,” Courfeyrac tells them as he climbs into Combeferre’s lap. Courfeyrac has done this plenty of times before, but there is something different about the way he uses one hand to play with Combeferre’s hair and rests the other on his chest. “We do make a great couple.” 

* * *

“What did I tell you?” Grantaire winks the next morning, watching Courfeyrac hum as he makes omelettes in Enjolras and Combeferre’s kitchen, wearing nothing but boxers and one of Combeferre’s shirts.

“I gotta hand it to you, R, you were right,” Courfeyrac says, adding another egg to the pan.

“Of course I was right,” Grantaire laughed. “It worked for me, didn’t it? I wore Enjolras’s red sweater for a week and by the end, he kissed me in my kitchen. These boys are a little too predictable.”

“And I’m grateful for it. I don’t think I want to stop wearing his clothes now,” Courfeyrac admits. “They’re so comfy, plus, I look adorable.”

“I’ll have to agree with that,” Combeferre says, making his presence in the entrance of the kitchen known. He’s leaning against the door frame and smiling softly as he watches his boyfriend. “What were you talking about?”

Courfeyrac walks up to him to give him a quick kiss on the lips. “How I got into your pants by stealing your hoodies.”

Grantaire snorts into his coffee as Combeferre blushes slightly. “It wasn’t just the hoodies, you know.”

“Of course, but they helped. You have Grantaire to thank for giving me the idea,” Courfeyrac winks and returns to the stove.

Combeferre gives Grantaire a serious look. “Thank you, Grantaire.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always welcome! And I am [here on tumblr](http://www.lesmiserablol.tumblr.com) :)


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